


A Bittersweet Cup Of Cocoa

by Cheeky_The_Monkey



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/F, F/M, I'M GIVING HOT CHOCOLATE GUY THE REPRESENTATION HE DESERVES, M/M, a bit of every genre tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeky_The_Monkey/pseuds/Cheeky_The_Monkey
Summary: Follow an obnoxious teen through the events of TGWDLM, meeting the characters along the way. From when he accidentally summons a meteor to his attempts to stop the musical apocalypse. And he still wants his hot chocolate.AU where Hot Chocolate Guy, being the gay mess that he is, causes/fixes everything.





	1. Another Terrible Day

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping this fic will have around 10 chapters, depending on how long/short I write them.
> 
> Hot Chocolate Guy is going to be nameless, because Nick Lang decided nOT TO TELL US HIS NAME WHICH WOULD MAKE MY LIFE A LOT EASIER!
> 
> You can give him any name you like. Also, forgive my British-ness.
> 
> Onto the story!

_Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!_

Waking up was always the hardest part of the school day. 

His Mom thought otherwise, and would plead that getting bullied and beaten up was the worst. The worst? Yes. The hardest? No. It was much harder to have to force yourself to get up and put effort into getting ready and cycling to school, only to then be bullied and beaten up.

Stupid legal requirements. At least it was nearly Friday.

He did the usual:  
\- Get up  
\- Get dressed  
\- Brush teeth  
\- Wash face  
\- Eat breakfast  
\- Comb hair (that one was important)

As always, his Mom had left him a reassuring note on the kitchen surface.

_“Today you will achieve your dreams!”_

Huh. That was new. New usually meant that she had bad news for when he got home. A little pool of dread began brewing in his stomach. 

He briefly checked his appearance in the mirror. Dark chocolate brown hair combed neatly-ish to the side, glasses on straight, white shirt clean and ironed; everything ready for the day.

Grabbing his bag, he left the house and locked the door behind him. He then retrieved his bicycle and set off for another terrible day.

* * *

He was used to people staring, but it didn’t make it any less awkward. He would hear them whisper hurtful words as he passed. He was used to that too.

Every now and again he would wonder what had started it all. Then it would hit him painfully.

Oh yeah. His height. Not to mention his immense love of musicals.

He had always been tall. It wasn’t something he could control. He had been 5’7 when he started at Hatchetfield High, and had only kept on growing. He had been a target since his very first day. He wasn’t sure whether that thought was reassuring or depressing. Probably both, somehow.

Upon reaching his locker, he let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been ambushed so far.

_“Hey, Shaggy!”_

They always seemed to have a new nickname for him. Shaggy being the most recent, as his voice had been cracking much more often than usual. Mom assured him that it was a good thing because he was “growing up”. To him, it was bad because it made him sound like a squirrel. No offence to Peanuts the Hatchetfield Pocket Squirrel, of course, who was an inspiration to all.

He watched as the gang of boys approached him, led by the ever annoyingly handsome John. He was sick of the routine of them looking for him in the mornings. Just for one day, he wished that they would let him get his books in peace. One day wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“Leave me alone, John.” He replied, immediately realising his mistake. He had wanted to sound exasperated, but for once his voice didn’t crack making him sound deadly serious. His eyes widened in fear, and he couldn’t help the shivers that took over his body.

The boys all laughed. Of course they would laugh. Hopefully it would just be laughs.

“Oh,” began John, “you heard him guys. Let’s leave Shaggy alone today.”

He let out a sigh of relief when the bell rang.

“But,” John continued, making his stomach twist, “I’m sure he’ll have changed his mind by lunch, right?”

John turned to him and spat up in his face. He spat back down and instantly regretted it.

The gang strutted back down the corridor, leaving him to quickly gather up the books he needed and run to class.

He needed to think of a good hiding place before lunch.


	2. This School Is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HCG faces the consequences of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad people are enjoying this!
> 
> Also, I wonder if people can guess the trend with these chapter titles, hmmm...

The morning lessons went by far too quickly. Before he realised it, the bell rang for lunch and his classmates were all rushing out of the room.

He had three options:  
1\. Try and merge with the crowd and slip away unnoticed  
2\. Wait for everyone to leave and hope that John and his gang had already gone  
3\. Run

He chose option three.

Taking a deep breath, he sprinted out of the classroom, not even giving a second glance as lots of people were pushed to the ground in the process. Thinking back, he probably shouldn’t have done that as the gang just followed the trail of shouts.

He stopped running once he reached the blackberry bushes near the school gates. They had seemed like a good hiding place earlier, but he soon realised that there was no chance that he would fit in them. But, being under the influence of adrenaline, he tried to squeeze himself in anyway.

He’d forgotten that blackberry bushes were prickly. Very, very, prickly.

He let out a yelp as the thorns scratched his skin, and winced when flecks of blood began to appear on his bare arms.

So, his day was going great so far.

“Check the bushes!”

_And it was about to get much better._

He heard the patter of multiple pairs of feet as they raced down the concrete slope to his failure of a hiding place. After all, what kind of blackberry bush had a mop of fluffy brown hair on top of it?

He closed his eyes. It really didn’t make a difference, but he did it anyway. 

Without warning, he felt something slightly warm and sticky splash onto his face. Upon instinct, his eyes flew open and he realised what had happened.

That fool of a John had spat up in his face. He might have deserved it, but whatever. It was still gross. Oh yeah, and it was a sign that his daily beating was about to happen. He braced himself.

“How does that feel, huh?” Said John, smirking.

He hated the fact that he loved that smirk.

“Actually, you spat at me first this morning, so technically I get another shot.”

_What was he doing no this was bad stop stop regret regret regr-_

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Everyone turned to see a large, familiar figure jogging gracefully down the slope.

Michael. Handsome, athletic, perfect Michael. Michael who was one of the only people to leave him alone without giving him a second glance.

For a moment he felt light-headed at the fact that Michael was actually looking at him, but then he remembered the situation he was in.

Standing in a blackberry bush, tangled in thorns, saliva dripping off his chin, and a group of reputable boys surrounding him. It was a first.

He opened his mouth to reply but John beat him to it.

“Dude thought it would be okay to spit in my face and forget about it.”

 

Michael turned to him and he felt relieved. Michael was a good guy with a clean set of morals so he’d probably shoo the others away and help him out. Michael would save him.

“You think that’s okay, Shaggy?”

_What-_

“You think it’s okay to insult my bro like that?”

The boys stepped aside to allow Michael to approach him menacingly. He felt a rising feeling of dread. He didn’t know what Michael was John’s older brother! That changed things dramatically. He had the sense to take off his glasses and quickly shove them in his pocket.

“I bet you think this okay too!” Said Michael, forcing a large fist into his face.

Now, he knew that Michael was strong. He was the Captain of the Hatchetfield High Squirrels, after all. But he never thought that he would be so strong that he would cause his cheek to bleed with only one hit.

This time the saliva-blood-mix that came out of his mouth was unintentional.

“This school is _mine_ , understand?!” Someone kicked him roughly in the torso, forcing him to become winded.

It didn’t stop there.

Taking it as a signal, John and his gang soon arrived at Michael’s side. He didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he felt a pair of firm hands pull him out of the bush (the thorns didn’t hurt any less) and watched helplessly as the group of boys pounced on him like wolves with their prey.

Punch after punch, slap after slap, kick after kick. He did the usual of humming a tune to himself to distract himself, but this time they covered his mouth with his own sock.

They must have taken off his shoe at some point. He wasn’t really keeping track. 

After what felt like an eternity but was probably much shorter than that, darkness began to creep around the edges of his vision, and soon he settled into a peaceful state of unconsciousness.

* * *

_Ouch._

He immediately brought his hand up to his cheek, and rubbed the area where he had just been smacked much harder than was necessary.

“Oh thank God you’re awake,” said a female voice, attached to a woman who’s name he couldn’t quite place “I was worried we were going to have to call an ambulance.”

Ambulance? Where even was he?

He looked around and felt the memories come tumbling back to him when he caught sight of an unruly blackberry bush. Oh yeah. That happened.

Turning back to the woman (it had suddenly clicked that she was Mrs Miller, his math teacher) he sighed apologetically. He really didn’t want to have to explain the embarrassing run-in with Michael. At least everyone had gone back to lessons by now.

Michael was going to hate him now. He was going to have to cross yet another name off the “nice” list.

“Um, thanks. I didn’t get any sleep last night so I must have dozed off.”

It was a blatant lie, but it saved him having to apologise spitting in poor little John’s face(!)

“In a blackberry bush?”

He really should have thought that through.

“Yes..?” he replied cautiously.

Mrs Miller sighed. He couldn’t blame her. 

She made a move as if to hug him, but settled with removing some of the brambles that had attached themselves onto his shirt. It was a nice gesture anyway.

“Go home,” she began, “and get yourself cleaned up. If you feel up to it you can make a statement tomorrow.”

That was a relief, as the last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the day in humiliation.

He wondered if John and Michael had recounted their side of the story yet. Hopefully not.

He nodded gratefully before rushing back into the main building to retrieve his bag (avoiding open doors at all costs).

Then he mounted his bicycle and rode home promptly, dreading how he was going to explain the day to his Mom. So much for his dreams coming true.


End file.
